The Boy I Grew Up With
Page 51

I nodded, feeling the pit in my stomach open up and all of my insides fall out. “Yeah.”
I’d never told him about the other times. If Channing and I broke up, Brandon always realized it weeks later. There was no point in sharing, because he always came back. I always went to him. The revolving door was just that, revolving.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.”
I got up, accepting it, feeling emotions press down on my shoulders that I usually liked to ignore. I felt Brandon following me inside. Even when I went to the office, so did he. I put the paperwork away, shut down my computer, collected my keys, and turned to him.
He was in the doorway, waiting for me.
He knew where I was going.
His chest lifted. His mouth started to open. He was going to say something, but then an emotion flickered over him, and he shut his mouth.
I left. I was going to do what I’d threatened Channing with when we got together this last time.
It was time to shit or get off the fucking pot.
39
Heather
Junior year
It was a normal day, or as normal as they’d become.
I’d had two years of Channing acting like a dick—fighting, cursing, being a jerk. He’d apologize, and I’d forgive him because I was spineless, or just an idiot girl in love. There’d be cuddling, making out, and I’d be happy for a few days.
Then he would start again.
As Channing grew more and more into a dick, I worked more and more at Manny’s. I was a full-time staff member by the time I was fourteen. Don’t tell the government. Manny’s was home to me. It had become my sanctuary away from Channing’s craziness. He and his friends were out of control. Some nights he crawled into my bed and I didn’t recognize him. He sounded like a stranger. He reeked of alcohol. Most nights there was blood on him—either his or someone else’s.
I stopped asking.
He stopped telling me.
Today was my first day of junior year at Roussou. I’d barely talked to Channing over the summer, which I wasn’t thinking about. He still slipped in at night, but that’d been it for us. Not a lot of conversation happened then, and coming to school, I didn’t know if the nightmare would start up again or there’d be a break in something. Anything.
It happened when I was walking down the hallway, books in hand. I was going to my fifth period class when I saw her.
A girl slipped out of Gus’ janitor’s closet.
Nothing about her should’ve caught my attention. Closet hook-ups happened all the time.
But, for whatever reason, I saw her.
Her lipstick was smeared. It was obvious what she’d been doing.
I started to move past, looking for my classroom, when the door swung open again.
I saw his shoes first. The same black sneakers that’d been by my bed this morning. The same shoes he’d kicked off as he climbed through the window and jumped into my bed. The same shoes he shoved his feet in when he needed a quick getaway.
My heart sank.
I jerked to a stop, nearly falling over.
I couldn’t… My head was swimming. I couldn’t think that.
Right?
He wouldn’t do that.
Right?
But he came out.
The same jeans.
The same hands.
The same tattoos on his arms.
The same shirt I’d watched him pull on this morning.
The same face.
The same lips—no, not the same.
There was lipstick smeared over his lips, and he rubbed at the side of his face as he stepped fully out.
I was on the opposite side of the hallway. He first looked at the students moving past, and then his eyes darted around until he saw me. He straightened up, his hand falling away, and I saw more lipstick there.
Jesus.
I sucked in my breath. My hands tightened on my books. It was like she’d branded him.
He’d cheated on me. I’d caught him red-handed.
An apology flashed in his eyes, but no. No way.
He stepped forward, toward me, but I slammed back into the lockers behind me. I heard the sound, but I never felt it. I just shook my head.
He mouthed my name, but I shook my head again.
No fucking way.
My hands were shaking.
No FUCKING way!
My books fall to the floor. I never heard the thud.
NO FUCKING WAY!
My legs were trembling. My knees knocked against each other.
I was done.
I felt light-headed. Spots appeared in my vision, but fuck him.
Done.
Fuck her.
DONE!
Fuck everything.
I was already gone.
Turning away, I walked past my classroom. I walked past the office. I walked all the way out to the parking lot, got the extra set of keys Channing kept under his truck, and I drove to Fallen Crest Public High School.
I broke up with him, transferred schools, and took his vehicle—all without saying a word to anyone.
I was done with Roussou.
40
Heather
Present day
Tuesday Tits had a line out the door. Channing was right. He was starting to get our old clientele. I recognized a bunch of college students that were regulars at Manny’s. He’d said his karaoke nights were doing well, but tonight was the martini night.
A few people recognized me as I passed.
A guy called out, “Hey, Heather!”
“Hey, guys. You here to enjoy Thursday Night Titinis?”
The name was ridiculous, but it got the buzz going. I had to give Channing credit where it was due, and yeah, there might’ve been some business envy attached to it. I was human.
One of the girls laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Five bucks a martini? We’d be nuts not to grab that deal.”
Note to self: steal his idea.
The sale only lasted an hour, but it was enough to get people lit and keep them around.
Another girl linked her elbow with the first. “Besides, there are hotties to look at.”
There was that too.
I grunted. “Maybe I’ll see you in there.”
They waved as I headed for the door. A few grumbled that I was cutting, but they were hushed.
Congo and Chad were manning the door, and both grinned in greeting.
“How’s my woman?” Congo asked.
“Still nuts. I don’t know who she thinks she’s protecting me from, but she’s still at Manny’s, and I’m here.”
Chad burst out laughing before pointing over my shoulder. “You sure about that?”
A glaze of pride and lust showed in Congo’s eyes as he looked too.
Stalker strolled up around me, almost sauntering. She ran a hand down Congo’s arm, leaning in for a kiss. “Hello, lover.”
I didn’t need to see that.
No one did.
When tongue got involved, I held my hands up. “Okay. Stop. Even your future children are scarred.”
Shit. The words slipped out before I knew what I was saying, but I was the only one who froze.
Chad and Congo laughed.
Rebecca (I couldn’t bring myself to call her Becca like the others were, and it felt a little mean to keep referring to her as Stalker) huffed, turning to face me. “Respect the Becs. I’m here to protect you, whether you like me or not.”
Congo wrapped his arm around her. “She promised Channing she’d watch out for you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You promised Channing?”
Congo’s arm slipped to drape over her front. She held onto it at her waist. “I did. I fulfill my promises.”
She was still a stalker. I wasn’t going to thank her. Instead, I twisted to Chad. “Is he here?”